Molotov Cocktails
by Atmospheric
Summary: [AU] [one-shot from Pandemic] The blast could be seen in the reflection of his eyes, those blue depths changed to an intense orange for a split second as ravenous flames consumed rotting flesh. Deidara grinned, watching the consumption with a steadily rising excitement. "Hell yeah!"


A/N: This is just a quick one-shot for a challenge that is being sponsored by TK Grimm. (If you haven't visited their page I would recommend doing so!) It is a stand alone and isn't necessary to the plotline of the larger story entitled Pandemic. Anyway, hope you like, feel free to review and let me know what you think!

* * *

**MOLOTOV COCKTAILS**

** . . .**

_I feel it on the tip of my tongue, these words fall out like tears from a gun._

Tears from a Gun - The Black Ghosts

. . .

One hand was tossed over the steering wheel. The other secured a rather large tire that occupied all of the passenger seat and was currently attempting to crowd into the driver's too as he took a turn that would have earned him a pretty stiff ticket if this wasn't the zombie apocalypse.

Turned out that most police officers didn't have time to hide behind trees on back roads when there were undead roaming around. Speaking of which - Deidara redirected his gaze to the windshield which was spattered with all manner of winged insects. His clear blue eyes locked onto those of a straggler; its clouded irises watched him intently as it let out a decidedly predatory squawk.

Deidara jerked the wheel once again, using his wrist more than his hand, and slammed into the bastard. It's already degrading body hit the bumper and flew into the windshield, meeting the same fate as an innumerable quantity of bugs. Of course, it was difficult to kill something that was already dead so he took his second hand away from the tire and put his four wheel drive into reverse.

His foot hit the gas pedal with an unnecessary amount of force and the zombie flew off, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Deidara shifted gears once more and ran back over its lying form, earning a sickening crunch. The blonde scooped his hair out of his eye and checked the rearview mirror. "Should've picked easier prey, un." Satisfied with his work, he grinned and plowed ahead.

It was shocking just how quickly roads took a turn for the worse when not under supervision. This one in particular was riddled with potholes that kept Deidara on edge and made him grind his teeth whenever he felt the Jeep buckle and dive into them.

He wasn't exactly concerned for the car, even though he knew some of the deeper cracks could have easily thrown it out of alignment. Instead his principal worry was for his comrades. Deidara served as the driver for the mobile unit - he had some other functions as well but that was the most crucial. In effect, he was in charge of making sure they could shoot out of the windows with at least _some _accuracy and a rocky trip only increased the difficulty of that task.

All the same, he was a _damn_ good driver; a few years in Los Angeles running with a gang of street racers confirmed that skill.

Deidara was forced to refocus on the present when the tire, still sitting precariously beside him, responded angrily to one of the dips and nearly took off his head. Quick reflexes had just barely allowed him to dodge the massive rubber donut. He grunted and stopped the vehicle before forcing the offending object back into place.

Once he was certain that it was secure, Deidara hammered onto the gas once again but was met with the revving of an engine and spinning tires. Blonde eyebrows knit together in confusion as he threw the car door open and stepped out - the front left tire was stuck in a practically bottomless pit. "God damn it!" His teeth gnashed together as his bright eyes scanned the horizon.

About a mile away stood the bed and breakfast the rest of his unit was sheltered at. It wasn't a terrible distance away; he could always return the next day to free the 'four wheel drive' from its current predicament. It was one of two cars in their possession, but they still couldn't afford to lose it. Deidara steeled his resolve and crossed over to the passenger side of the Jeep.

On the floor was the machete he habitually brought every time he went into town. With the blade in one hand, Deidara hacked away a large piece of rubber from the troublesome tire; he wouldn't be able to carry the entire thing back but he needed the heavy substance as a thickener in his bombs. Molotov cocktails to be precise - it was an art that Deidara knew quite a bit about and it was his _other _specialization within the group.

Just something he had picked up in the seven months of hell since the first onset of plague.

Moving to the trunk, he chose a black backpack to throw the tire scrap into and slipped it onto his back for mere convenience. He then strapped on a holster that held one of his flammable elixirs: it was a simple glass bottle filled with an orange tinted liquid and plugged up by what functioned as a wick but looked more like a cork stopper.

Last but not least, Deidara snatched up the grocery bag that contained his primary reason for going into town in the first place. Medicine. The blonde grumbled under his breath, releasing a long string of curses about how useless Uchiha Itachi was because of his constant headaches. The elder man had been diagnosed at an early age with severe optical migraines. Something about pressure around his eyes - Deidara wasn't sure, he had still been bitter towards Itachi at that point and hadn't care to hear about his condition.

Not that he was particularly fond of the Uchiha now - he had found the blonde a few months after the outbreak and had forced him into the Akatsuki upon determination of his possibility as an asset. Perhaps if the Akatsuki was a typical group of survivors Deidara would have seen a benefit in joining forces with them, but they were anything but.

No, the Akatsuki was an organization that took the battle to the undead. Instead of fighting to maintain the existence of the human race, they fought for the utter annihilation of zombies. For a new "dawn" in which people would no longer have to fear for their lives. It was a noble cause, but it was also downright stupid. Deidara would be satisfied to simply survive the damn apocalypse.

None of that mattered now though, he had made connections in the group that he could never hope to sever. He would have to weather out this storm alongside the nine other members. A weak smile slid over his lips as Deidara contemplated the futility of his position.

"At least I'll go out with a bang."

He slammed the trunk back into place and with his free hand managed to pull his long blonde locks into a band on his wrist, leaving half of them down in a characteristic ponytail. "Let's do this, un."

Deidara swaggered forward unhurriedly, the weather was rather pleasant and he wasn't in any rush to be on lockdown in a heavily air-conditioned building. A shiver worked its way down his spine as if he were already in his icy room. He rubbed his hands against the lightly bronzed skin of his arms in an attempt to ward off the preemptive chill.

After a series of seconds Deidara fixated his attention on walking. The terrain was not particularly rocky but it was rocky and consisted of endless slopes. He had chosen to follow the road given that it was a sure way to remain on track - this meant he would have to concentrate on not tripping over crags. There wasn't exactly a vast horde of undead lurking in these parts but it wouldn't do to be thrown off balance and then attacked head on by a variant.

The blonde groaned at the very idea of meeting a variant out here. Those were the dangerous bastards, the elite of their group. A typical zombie was a lethargic and thunderous beast with no capacity for stealth. However, there were others - namely variants - that had retained some meager abilities such as muffling their steps or moving with increased swiftness. They were unpleasant to say the least.

Deidara stared down at the pavement, watching the way his black combat boots scuffed against endless asphalt. He only looked up when his keen hearing alerted him to another presence in the surrounding vicinity. Blue eyes scrutinized their surroundings, searching with detached precision for the source of the noise. When a lone zombie broke through the trees a little ways ahead he grinned but the expression didn't last long as the creature was joined by four of its companions.

"I can't catch a break, un," Deidara huffed, stealing his only available Molotov cocktail from its holster. His fingers moved instinctively, diving inside the right pocket of his black jeans and clasping around the lighter he always kept there.

When he drew the item out, his adversaries began their frantic shamble towards him. He could only imagine what was going on inside the minds of those deranged beings as they struggled in his direction. He only knew that they wouldn't be walking much longer.

"Prepare to die, un!" He let a chuckle tear out of his throat as he lit the wick on the glass bottle and threw it into the group. The blast could be seen in the reflection of his eyes, those blue depths changed to an intense orange for a split second as ravenous flames consumed rotting flesh. Deidara grinned, watching the consumption with a steadily rising excitement. "Hell yeah!"

The fireball began to dissipate as it burned through the available fuel, revealing one survivor. The blonde grabbed the machete strapped to his side and sprinted toward the charred zombie. It uttered an inhuman scream as the sharpened blade pierced through layers of flesh. Deidara gritted his teeth as he used the momentum to slice clean through its neck.

He slid on the now gravelly road; once he had steadied himself he turned around to see five crumpled corpses lying in a combination of ash and blood. His gaze lowered to the fitted white shirt he wore and immediately signaled his distaste. He was now drenched in zombie blood, it soaked him down to the skin. He scrunched his face in disgust but tried not to dwell on it.

What really upset him was the use of his last homemade bomb. He was suddenly very glad he had chosen to cut off that piece of tire. He would need it to make another few explosives when he reached the base. They were extremely useful weapons to have - their high lethality and almost certain chance to maim made them an excellent trump card.

There were drawbacks of course, such as the potential of spontaneous ignition - but what was life without risks anyway? _Boring._

* * *

After another twenty minutes of rather uneventful walking, Deidara finally stepped into the lobby of a pleasant two story building that looked quite a bit like a hybrid between a hotel and a home. He listened absently to the click of his boots on the grimy tiled floors as he made his way toward the corridor that housed the majority of bedrooms. He passed several before stopping in front of a thick wooden door.

An elegant scroll of birds and flowers was carved seamlessly into the dark cherry wood. It was a lovely display that marked the room as belonging to two artists, namely himself and his roommate Akasuna no Sasori. However, that was not what caught his attention. He had locked the door on his way out earlier in the afternoon; now it was slightly ajar.

He pushed the surface open and stepped into the dimly lit room. Underneath a sunlamp sat a cinnamon-haired man that he recognized immediately as his roommate. _Oh shit, did I lock Sasori out again, un?_

Deidara slipped further into the floor space with an edge of inhibition as he waited for the elder to turn a narrowed honey gaze at him. No such thing occurred. In fact, the redhead looked rather pacified by whatever he was absorbed in. Taking a few cautious steps toward the man proved that he was currently bent over a sketchbook with a pink colored pencil poised in one dexterous hand.

The blonde had seen Sasori do a lot of things but he could not recall ever seeing him anywhere around the color pink, much less using it in a drawing. To his knowledge, Sasori abhorred the color, marked it as being too feminine and all around a loud and obnoxious hue. Deidara's jaw went slack as he watched his partner outline add choppy pink hair to the beginnings of a woman's face.

"Danna, what are you doing?" he asked, raising a limp finger to point at the picture.

Honey eyes widened but the startled expression was concealed by several unruly locks of hair. He set down the drawing utensil carefully and folded his hands over what he had sketched so far. "I don't see why that matters," he answered in a warning tone.

Deidara grinned, "Who is she, un?"

His question was rewarded by a cold glare from Sasori and followed up by a grunt of displeasure. Apparently the redhead saw no use in keeping the secret, quite possibly because Deidara would meet their newest recruit eventually.

"Haruno Sakura," he answered casually. "Itachi found her in the forest."

It was Deidara's turn to be displeased. _Itachi has forced another one into servitude huh?_ He lost sight of his purpose in asking and instead let a growl seep out from his throat. "That asshole, someone should put him in his place, un. I can't believe -"

"He owned you once and you know damn well that the outcome would be the same." The seated man stretched his legs underneath the desk and chuckled to himself at the hurt look on his partner's face as the words reached him. The vast majority of the time, Sasori found the blonde unbearably annoying but once in a while he was reminded of the younger's comedic value. "Besides, she came willingly."

Deidara's pained expression turned into one of shock. Who would ever join the Akatsuki out of sheer compliance? She must have been insane even to consider such a thing, either that or suicidal. The blonde tossed his head in a dramatic display of pity and sighed. "Poor girl, un. Where is she anyway?"

"In the shower."

Deidara deadpanned. There it was, the reason she had sacrificed her life: because the Akatsuki lived in one of the only remaining buildings with a backup generator. That meant they had running water and electricity. He supposed it was an understandable action but he hardly considered it a fair trade. After a few moments of disbelieving silence, Deidara threw his backpack onto his bed.

It was one of two identical platforms, with the same quilted blankets as the other but the mattress was comfortable and he had no room to complain. Removing his holster, the blonde plopped onto the rug-covered floor with a glass bottle, his spare scrap of tire, and a jar of gasoline that he had siphoned from an abandoned car a few days ago.

His fingers flew across the materials laid out before him as Sasori became engrossed in his work once again. He easily replicated his previous concoctions, adding a section of melted rubber to it for good measure. In a matter of minutes he had constructed a replacement Molotov cocktail that could be slipped into the holster and deposited into the car -

The car.

"Oh, uh, Danna -" Deidara started anxiously.

"What do you want now, brat," came the impatient reply.

"Well, I had to leave the Jeep behind because it got stuck in a pretty deep pothole and I couldn't push it out by myself and all, un," he scrambled for the words, losing focus on his experiment. He flailed his arms in a motion of surrender and knocked over the explosive. Still distracted, Deidara continued to try to explain as Sasori rose.

Before he even realized what was happening, Deidara had been shoved back by his roommate, who was now in the progress of rapidly stripping off his shirt. He threw the black article over the bottle, preventing air from reaching and igniting the fluid. Smoke rose from the glass and sifted out of his shirt all the same but the redhead had just successfully saved their room - and themselves - from a deadly fireball.

"Pay attention when you're dealing with weapons brat!" Sasori hissed behind clenched teeth.

He would never admit it but for a moment the honey-eyed man was terrified he would lose his only friend. Panic constricted his throat and his heart thundered, it took all of his energy to suppress his rapid breaths. To his fortune, Deidara was too humiliated and shocked to notice any of these things.

His hands were splayed out in his long blonde hair and his eyes were frenzied. _Damn it. _He could be an idiot sometimes, but this was unacceptable. Deidara cursed under his breath before directing his gaze back to Sasori. He could see the a glint of frustration in the eyes of Akasuna no Sasori, and something else, but he couldn't place just what it was. He thought for a moment it might be concern but it vanished too quickly for him to put a proper name to it. Deidara frowned.

They stayed just like that for a few seconds, watching the fuming chemicals until someone sprinted through the door. She was surprisingly quiet as she entered, and at first the blonde didn't recognize her at all but it soon became clear that she was the same woman from Sasori's drawing. Pink hair framed pale skin that was flushed pink from the heat of a shower. Gemstone eyes were set wide in shock.

It took Deidara a moment to regain his composure enough to speak as the tension in the room rose significantly. "I think you have a visitor, un."

He watched as Sasori turned, watched a flicker of surprise show briefly in his features, watched as his friend realized that this girl was staring at his exposed frame. Then a smirk formed across the redhead's lips and he said in a casual tone, "Like what you see?"

Deidara snickered under his breath at the blatant flirt. This was very much unlike the Sasori he knew. _Damn Danna, she's already got you wrapped around her finger, un._

This would certainly be an eventful evening.


End file.
